


rough blue waters

by frontally (chlorrs)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chlorrs/pseuds/frontally
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p>I could have lost myself in rough blue waters<br/>in your eyes<br/>and I miss you still</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. winter is all over you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ssstrychnine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssstrychnine/gifts).



Her first winter in District 12 is terrible. Oh, she tries so hard not to complain, but sometimes she can’t help but let an agonized squeak out and she doesn’t even need to look at Haymitch to know that he’s rolling his eyes. So she tries to ignore the aches and pains, though it feels like the flesh that was torn apart while she was in the Capitol is being destroyed all over again. She knows they all hurt, though Peeta is the only one who confides in her, but she doesn't understand how they can all pretend that everything is okay when finally, _finally_ they don't have to.

The cold begins as they arrive in November, and it’s a shock when it comes. But she makes it, keeping herself warm with black coffee and scarves and sweaters and it works for a while. Then she has Christmas to look forward to— the others are entirely happy to let her take over there. Even Haymitch cooperates with her plans- she may be living in his home, but as he frequently likes to remind her, that doesn’t make them friends. And after that, there's the new year celebration which she also has a hand in. Soon after that there's nothing left for her to plan, and once again all she can think about is the bitter cold.

It doesn't matter how high she builds the fire, it's still not warm enough for her. Haymitch habitually complains that it's too hot in the house, he'll wander around in just a teeshirt and the only pair of pants he ever wears, and she'll look at him enviously. Why doesn't he feel the cold too? _It's just not fair,_ she'll think with just a touch of venom.

Then, there comes the day where she can't get out of bed. She tries of course, but as soon as she tries to put weight on her legs, her knees collapse under her and she barely manages to catch herself on the bedframe. It's not the first time it's happened of course. The damage to her knees was immense. The doctors told her she may never be able to walk again. Well, she certainly can’t wear heels, but she can walk. It’s a constant battle against her rebellious body but every day she forces her knees to stay locked, and wills her body to stay upright.

Not today, though. Today she is so tired. So instead of forcing her body to cooperate, she sits back onto the bed, maneuvers herself back under the warm covers and buries her face in her hands, in preparation for the tears she knows aren’t going to come. She hasn’t been able to cry since the Capitol. Not since all her tears were taken from her in captivity. Instead there are dry sobs and she clutches the pillowcase with bent fingers. She drifts in an out of sleep, ignoring the sound of Haymitch blundering about the house, ignoring him calling her name. He can live without her for one day; let him fix his own breakfast. Eventually the calls cease, and the front door opens and shuts.

Time passes slowly as she stares at the wall, the ceiling, the floor by turns. She is so intent in her reverie that she doesn’t hear the door to the house open again, or the light tread that ascends the stairs. She does hear the creak the door makes when it opens slowly, but she doesn’t turn over to see who it is, she just clings to her sheets and hunches her shoulders in preparation for the diatribe that is sure to come. Instead, the bed dips next to her and there’s a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Haymitch said he couldn’t find you this morning,” Katniss says, tugging on Effie’s arm gently so she rolls onto her back. “I asked him if he’d bothered looking in you room, but he rolled his eyes at me and said that there was no way you were still in here, he would have noticed.” Effie snorts quietly at that and Katniss gives her a half-smile. “I left him muddling about the Market trying to find out if anyone had seen you.”

“Serves him right,” Effie says, her voice quiet and strained.

“I thought so.”

They sit in silence for a while, Effie staring at the ceiling and Katniss fiddling with the scrap of rope she still keeps in her pocket, after all these months. She’s never told Effie what it means, but Effie understands the need to keep busy, to keep your hands doing something.

“I tried,” Effie starts, her voice cracking slightly. “I tried to get out of bed, but I just couldn’t. I know you must think I’m dreadfully selfish, you’ve been through so much worse, but it just hurts.” She swallows hard, covering her eyes with a wrist, ashamed.

“Don’t say that,” Katniss says, and Effie wants to flinch away from the steel in her voice. “After- after what they did to you, you don’t have to pretend that you’re fine, Effie. You’re allowed to hurt and be sad as much as the rest of us.”

“I-”, Effie falters, feeling far too vulnerable laying down. She sits up carefully, the thick sweater she’d ‘borrowed’ from Haymitch slipping off one shoulder. She pulls it up absently, too busy considering what she’s going to say to see Katniss’ expression.

“I didn’t realize,” Katniss trails off, and Effie looks at her confused, until she realizes that Katniss is staring at the place where her shoulder was bared a moment before. “Peeta told me, about...what they did to you.” Effie’s lip quivers slightly and Katniss bites hers. “He didn’t want to, but I could tell he was worried. I made him tell me. Don’t be mad at him. I don't think he realized how... bad it is, though.”

“I could never-” Effie starts, and chokes again. “I am flattered. That you all care. I just feel like, like this is my penance. Maybe it’s deserved. I participated for so long in those dreadful Games. It’s only fair.” Katniss makes an angry sound in the back of her throat and Effie shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t say such things.”

“It’s normal,” Katniss says quietly, her eyes taking on that faraway look that Effie recognizes. “For a long time I thought I deserved horrible things. Just because I survived. Doctor Aurelius says that it’s normal, but I don’t think he really understands it. Nobody who hasn’t been through it could.”

Effie nods, shifting her legs slightly to try and alleviate the pressure in her kneecaps. A slight whimper escapes her and Katniss swings her head around to look at Effie.

"Are you okay? Does it hurt right now?" Effie can only nod, her fingers clutching the bedspread as she tries to force herself not to make any more sound.

"It's my knees," she manages to bite out. "The doctors... They said there was a lot of nerve damage. They told me that I might never be able to walk again," she adds softly. "Of course, that didn't prove to be so, but. Well." Effie gestures to the legs that lay nearly useless under the blankets.

“I know it’s rich coming from me," Katniss says softly, reaching over to take Effie's hand in hers, "but I wish you’d said something. My mom... well, you know what she does. I bet she could tell me what I could do to help.”

“It never occurred to me,” Effie whispers honestly, “I just-”

“-don’t want to be a burden,” Katniss says wryly, nudging Effie with her shoulder. “You’re not. You’re here because we want you to be. We love you, Effie. You’ll never be a burden.”

To Effie's great embarrassment, that's when she breaks. The tears that she hasn't been able to shed in months start rolling down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. She wipes at them desperately, but the flood won't be stemmed. Giving up, she simply buries her face in the bedspread and desperately tries to control her tears. She half expects Katniss to leave at the display of emotion- she wouldn't blame her after all, the girl has done so much more for her than Effie would have ever expected, but she doesn't. Instead she feels a gentle hand on her back as Katniss rubs soothing circles over her shoulder blades.

The door downstairs opens with a crash, and Effie startles, breath catching in her throat, but doesn't make a move to unbury her face from the blankets. Haymitch curses downstairs, and Katniss calls out to let him know that they're upstairs. He clatters up the stairs loudly and Effie shakes her head when she hears him collide heavily with a wall. He makes it into the room and then there's silence. She dares to lift her face from the blankets, and when their eyes meet she can feel a flush spread over her cheeks.

"You were here the whole time," he says exasperatedly. "I went running around the District like an idiot and you were here the whole damn time."

Her mouth drops open, but before she can say a word Katniss cuts in. "It's your own damn fault you didn't check before you went running off half-cocked, so don't you dare take it out on Effie. If you can't be nice, turn around and walk away."

He stares at her in bewilderment for a moment before looking back at Effie, his mouth twisted into a scowl. He leaves, steadying himself on the wall, muttering about being ordered around in his own damn home. Katniss turns to look at effie with an apologetic gaze. "He's just embarrassed," she offers, placing her hand back on Effie's back. "He was worried, and doesn't want you to know it."

"I know," Effie says softly, smiling at the girl. "He's just... Haymitch. He'll be fine once he gets over it, I just don't think I can deal with him today. Katniss nods, and stands. She helps Effie rearrange herself on the bed so she's facing the door, and smooths her hair back in a surprisingly gentle gesture.

"I'll come over later with something for the pain. I'll talk to my mom too. Maybe she will know something that might help."

"Thank you," Effie whispers, reaching out to clutch Katniss' hand carefully. "Really, Katniss, you don't know how much-" her words fail her, and she has to swallow the lump in her throat that threatens to make the tears spill over again. Katniss seems to understand her despite it, and she smiles.

"I'll see you later," she says, with one final squeeze. As she leaves the room, Effie marvels at how this is the same girl who she knew on the train to the Capitol. Everything's changed, she muses, as she closes her eyes to try and lose herself in the oblivion of sleep, they've all changed. For good or bad, nothing is the same as it was.

She's almost asleep when she hears the quiet noise at her door. In the moment before she drops off into dreams, she opens her eyes a crack and sees Haymitch slumped against the doorframe, hands free of the liquor bottles that usually occupy them. She wants to open her mouth, say something, but sleep claims her before she can say a word.


	2. you were a fighter, but you never fought for me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to sit on this as long as I could, but the anxiety got to me, so this is wholly unbeta'd; all faults are mine.

When Effie opens her eyes, sunset is painting the walls and ceiling orange, and on her nightstand is a small jar of something with a note attached. She reads it and a soft smile spreads across her face; it's from Katniss. There's an apology that the salve in the jar won’t be overly effective, it will only dull the pain, but it’s all she could come up with on such short notice.She tosses her blankets to the side and rolls up the legs of the sweatpants she wore to bed, staring down at her knees when they are revealed. The sight of the scar tissue that covers them revolts her, and her lips turn down as she glares at it.

She unscrews the lid of the jar and dips two fingers in, the green paste thick against her skin. With a sigh, she gently starts rubbing the salve into her knees. She notices some petals not quite blended in and realizes that they're from the plant outside Katniss' house. The primrose bushes. Her hands still their movement and she breathes in deeply. It smells of spring, and freedom, and home.

She worries a petal between her fingers for a moment, enjoying the scent. She replaces the lid on the jar, carefully wiping off the excess from her fingers. The dull ache in her kneecaps slowly gives way to a gentle tingling, then blessed numbness. Effie smiles. For the first time in months she can focus on more than just the dull pain in her knees.

Determinedly, she begins to pull herself from the bed slowly, reminding herself that even though there isn't any pain, her legs aren't strong enough for her to simply spring out of bed as she might have before. When she decides that's she's steady enough on her feet to start making her way downstairs, she swaps out the sweatpants for a pair of leggings that are slightly more appropriate but keeps Haymitch’s sweater on. She slips her feet into a pair of soft slippers that had been a gift from Katniss and Peeta for Christmas, and stands for a moment in the doorway.

Actually making her way down the stairs is much harder than getting out of bed, but Effie tackles it with the same determination. She trails her hand over the wall to guide her, the other one clutching the bannister firmly. When she reaches the bottom Effie smiles, just a little. There, that wasn’t so hard. Then it’s to the kitchen. She passes through the living room, where Haymitch is sprawled out drunk, as usual. Debating the merits of trying to cover him with a blanket, she decides to pass by instead. He’s just as likely to insult or attack her as thank her.

The kitchen is thankfully untouched by the mess that permeates the rest of the house. It’s one of the few rooms that she insists stay clean, and considering that Haymitch doesn’t spend any great amount of time in there, it does. That said, Effie can’t exactly… cook. In the Capitol, it was considered unfashionable to cook for yourself. Even now, they most often bought their meals in the Market, things that neither of them could destroy by simply reheating. Her main interest in the kitchen at the moment, though, is the kettle that sits on the stove. She’s caught feeling somewhere between hunger and nausea, so a cup of tea sounds like a reasonable compromise. 

Slowly, she flicks through the small wooden box that contains the collection of teas she’s amassed since moving to Twelve. The ritual of having a cup of tea whenever times were hard had been with her since the first time she’d Reaped two children and taken them on a train bound for the Capitol and their deaths. Her hands shake slightly and she curls her fingers into loose fists in front of her, breathing deeply until it stops. Once she’s free of tremors, she picks out her favorite tea; the one labelled for relaxation, and sets the kettle on to boil. While the water heats, she goes to the cupboard to find her favorite mug. It’s one of the few things that was left intact in her apartment after the Rebellion. They’d taken her back before the execution, to find the clothing they’d needed to make her into ‘Effie Trinket the Escort’, and she’d been able to take a small number of personal things with her as well. 

Smiling, running her fingers over the rim, she remembers when she’d pulled the mug out of the bag in front of Haymitch. The way he’d looked at her in disbelief before laughing out loud, as he rarely did. She’d pretended to be offended, but really, it was a bright pink mug that had ‘princess’ scrawled on the side in golden paint, she might’ve been offended more if he hadn’t laughed. The kettle starts whistling and startled by the noise she turns back to the stove quickly.

Too quickly.

Her legs come out from under her, knees hitting the ground with a loud thud and both palms slap the floor to keep her from going face-down on the hardwood boards. Her mug goes skidding across the floor, in several pieces. But she doesn’t cry. She doesn’t even make a sound, just sits there staring at the broken mug. She doesn’t register the sound of the kettle increasing in volume, or the sounds coming from the living room. It’s not until she hears Haymitches rough “what the fuck is that noise?!” that she moves.

“Oh,” Effie says from her place on the floor, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He leans heavily on the doorframe, staring at her on the ground with the broken mug in front of her. “So that’s where my sweater got to,” he says finally. Effie plucks at the collar, slightly embarrassed, but she meets his gaze evenly.

“It’s much warmer than anything I own,” she says to him as he moves across the kitchen to pull the kettle off the stove.  
He snorts, then looks down at her. His mouth twitches like he wants to say something, and his hands curl into fists at his side for a moment before he holds them out to her. “Up you get, sweetheart.” 

She only looks at him for a moment before she places her small hands in his, gripping them as tightly as she can. “Oh,” she says softly, when she realizes her knees won’t hold her just yet. The numbness from the balm has been overtaken by the sharp pain of them hitting the floor, so she holds his hands tighter. “I just… need a moment.” 

“Take your time,” he says gruffly, tone indicating that he’d rather she do anything but and Effie gives him a tight smile before releasing his hands carefully. 

“Thank you,” she says primly, resisting the urge to wipe her hands on her legging to show him exactly what she thinks of his conduct. Instead she presses her lips together and stares at her mug. Haymitch remains where he is so she doesn’t bother trying to pick it up, she simply finds the broom and sweeps it into a neat pile in the corner. “Was there something else you wanted?” she asks when she’s finished, her arms folded defensively over her middle and one eyebrow arched.

He just looks at her for a moment, before nodding his head. “Katniss invited us over when she came over to drop off that stuff for you,” he shoves his hands in his pockets, “well, it wasn't really an invitation. I get the feeling she expects us there. Seems she’s taken a page out of your old book.” His smirk isn’t cruel, not really, but Effie can’t help the stirring of anger at the reminder of before.

“Well then,” she starts, breathing sharply out through her nose, “perhaps we’d better head over there.” She considers telling him to wait, so she can go back to her room to change into something different, but knows that she won’t be able to make it up and down the stairs without help. And she won’t ask Haymitch for help tonight, not after that. 

In the hall, they put on their jackets and boots in silence. Effie clutches the fur trim on hers to her neck, dreading the moment the door would open and they’d head out into the cold. As an afterthought, she grabs the knit cap hanging on one of the coathooks as well. Haymitch gives her a look as she puts it on, and she shoots one right back, daring him to say something. He keeps his mouth shut fortunately, and opens the door for her with a sweeping gesture. Wincing as the wall of cold air hits her, she straightens up resolutely and makes her way down the steps off the porch. Only three of them, but she clutches the railing as hard as she can, praying that she doesn’t fall again. The path between the two houses is mercifully short and free of snow. It was likely that Peeta had been out earlier in the day, shoveling the connecting cobblestones clear. It makes the journey between houses much easier. Effie abandons pretences when they approach the steps in front of Katniss’ house and loops one of her arms through Haymitches, the other holding the railing again. To his credit, Haymitch doesn’t make any smartass remarks this time, just slows his pace to keep up with her. 

Effie smiles her thanks to him from under her lashes and he responds with a crooked half smile as she disentangles herself. She knocks on the door with three short, sharp, raps and they only wait a moment before Peeta opens it. Effie hugs him tight, fussing over him for a moment and he lets her because he understands that this is what she needs to do. Katniss appears at the door a moment later and Effie does the same to her, thanking her for the salve in a whisper when their cheeks are pressed together. She doesn't hold on to Katniss for quite as long as Peeta, understanding the younger woman is much less at ease with the contact but not quite willing to let go so quickly.

They both hug Haymitch who grumbles about it, but Effie sees him hold them both close for a second and smiles when he meets her eyes over Katniss' shoulder. He makes a face and she can do nothing but laugh softly, its so Haymitch. Peeta takes her arm as they head into the dining room and she lays her hand atop of his, patting it absently as they discuss the weather, the geese, and the next train coming from the Capitol. She offers to help him with dinner, and he nods slowly, gesturing to Katniss for she and Haymitch to stay in the dining area.  
When they're alone in the kitchen, he turns to her with an earnestly sad expression. "I'm so sorry Effie."

Her confusion must be written across her face, because he elaborates, "for telling Katniss. It wasn't my place."

“Oh Peeta,” Effie sighs, covering his hands with both of hers. “I could never be upset with you. I told Katniss, the fact that you care is… well,” she presses her lips together to stop the trembling, squints a little to fight back the tears, “remarkable really.” Peeta frowns and opens his mouth, but she waves a hand him. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m just a little melancholy today. I’m sure by tomorrow everything will be all back to normal.”

He sighs but lets her get away with it, handing her a serving bowl full of vegetables so large that she needs both hands to carry it. “Goodness, Peeta! I don’t know if the four of us, even with those two in there, could eat this much!” 

“Then we’ll have leftovers I guess,” he says with a smile, throwing a tea towel over his shoulder and grabs another serving bowl from the counter. They place the bowls on the dining table, and Effie pokes her head into the living room where Katniss and Haymitch sit on one of the couches. Katniss is showing Haymitch something, and Effie catches snippets of what they’re muttering about; Katniss has been experimenting with making bows again. They both look up in unison when Effie announces dinner and it’s almost comical the way they get to their feet heading straight for the table. 

“Manners!” Effie scolds Haymitch when he reaches into one of the bowls and grabs out a piece of potato with his hands. He makes a rude sound around his mouthful, then gestures at Katniss who has taken a bread roll and is breaking it apart with relish. She catches Peeta’s eye, and he’s watching the scene with amusement. She has to fight to keep from smiling along with him. 

The dinner is amazing. Nothing as extravagant as what she’d grown up with in the Capitol, but there’s something so real about the food here in Twelve and she feels as though it’s the best she’s ever had every time she has a meal. Her appreciation doesn’t go unnoticed, and Haymitch teases her when it’s time for dessert and she’s staring forlornly at her plate.

“I couldn’t eat another bite,” she says to the cake sadly. “But this looks so amazing, Peeta, you’ve truly outdone yourself this time!”

“That’s what you say every time,” Haymitch mutters. Effie shuts him up with an elbow to the ribs. 

“Thank you, Effie.” Peeta says, frowning at Haymitch. “Of course you won’t have to miss out, there’s plenty for you to take home and have later.”

“Yeah,” Katniss pipes up, “we wouldn’t want you two to starve, we know how terrible your cooking is.” Her words are meant to be joking, but Effie can see the real fear behind them. She’s lost so many people in her young life- she’s terrified that she’s going to lose the few she has left. Effie tries to formulate a response, but she is beaten to it by Haymitch.

“Thanks for the concern, sweetheart,” he mocks. “Next think you’ll be coming over to make sure we can bathe ourselves.”

“I think Effie already knows how to bathe,” Katniss fires back, “but I can see where you’d need some help.” She wrinkles her nose. “I’m pretty sure your geese are cleaner than you are.” Peeta and Effie laugh, and even Haymitch cracks a smile.

“Alright, alright,” he mutters, “no more picking on the old guy.”

It’s far too soon after that that they bid the young couple goodnight, bundling themselves up. Effie is exhausted, eyelids drooping as she kisses their cheeks. She clutches his arm when he offers it to her without prompting and tries to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. 

“That was just lovely,” she comments as they walk slowly back to the house, chancing to look up at Haymitches face. His brow is furrowed and he’s looking off into the distance. His lips turn down for a split second before he clears his throat and answers her.

“Yeah, it was.”

They reach the bottom of the porch stairs and Effie stops, so Haymitch does too. She stares at the three steps like they’re an unassailable mountain and sighs deeply. “I can’t do it,” she says in a whisper, hands trembling as they push her hair out of her eyes.. 

Haymitch mumbles something that might be “oh for fucks sake” and then she’s being lifted in the air. He carries her up the stairs carefully, then deposits her at the top, unlocking and opening the door and putting the parcel of food from Katniss and Peeta on the table just inside the door. “I suppose you’ll want to get upstairs too.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but she’s lifted off her feet before she can refuse his rudely offered assistance, and carried up the stairs inside the house. She’s surprised that Haymitch manages to carry her up there without dropping her when usually he can’t get himself up the stairs without falling over, but she bites her tongue and when she’s put down again she stops him with a gentle hand on his sleeve. “Thank you, Haymitch.” 

He scowls, rubbing his free hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. Don’t expect it every time you’re feeling lazy, Trinket.”

Effie stares at him for a moment, squinting, trying to reconcile the man in front of her with the one who perhaps unwillingly, but gently, carried her up the stairs and she scowls right back, going into her room and shutting the door with more force than necessary. She gets ready for bed quickly, and in a moment of anger pulls the sweater- his sweater, off and throws it in the corner of the room. She pulls out something of her own and puts it on instead. It’s nowhere near as warm. 

In the morning after she descends the stairs easily for the first time since she’d started living there, she enters the kitchen and sees him in there. She greets him, same as she does every morning and puts the kettle on for her cup of tea. They stand across the room from each other, Effie with her tea and Haymitch with his coffee that is mostly liquor and they don’t discuss the previous night at all, even with her mug still laying in a broken pile on the kitchen floor.


	3. we carry on our backs the burden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still not quite sure where I'm going with this but I'm fairly certain it's somewhere fun and emotionally destructive. As always, much thanks to my lady Billie who lets me rave at her about Effie and Haymitch and then helps me turn those ravings into actual fic.

 

They dance around each other for days; barely speaking past pleasantries and petty bickering. Haymitch threatens to throw her out and Effie rolls her eyes and reminds him that he couldn’t face Katniss and Peeta if he did.The days get longer in fractions, the snow stops falling, and then starts melting away entirely, though the chill in the air has yet to dissipate. She still doesn’t wear his sweater. It’s stashed under her bed with the mementos of her old life that she’d thought she’d wanted to keep at the time, but now can’t look at without being reminded of the past. Some days, when she’s feeling particularly masochistic she’ll go through them one by one, taking the time to run her fingers over the photos and books and _remember_. It’s a sick, sad sort of penance, but it’s the only thing she allows herself now.

Effie is just settling down on the couch, a mug of tea hot against her palms when the doorbell rings. She considers letting Haymitch get it- she can hear him muddling about in the kitchen, no doubt leaving a mess for her to clean up later, but decides against it. It’s more likely that it’s for her anyway. Peeta has been coming around every second day or so, just to talk about normal things like the weather or Katniss’ most recent hunting trip. Things that aren’t painful reminders of what they’d been through.

“Coming,” she calls, and hears the noise in the kitchen stop briefly. She pulls the door open without bothering to check the peephole, and is rewarded by the sight of Katniss, her arms full of a bundle that she pushes into Effie’s arms the moment she realizes that it’s not Haymitch that answered the door. 

“Here, put this on.” Katniss says, her eyes darting over Effie and then to the floor, the walls, not stopping for a moment. Effie frowns for a moment and wants to protest, but Katniss’ hands are balled into tight fists and the muscles in her jaw are bunching. That, Effie understands.

“I’ll be right back,” she says with a forced lightness, carefully leaving the door half-open so Katniss can come inside and wait if she wants. She doesn’t. Effie doesn’t bother going all the way upstairs to change, she just ducks into one of the spare rooms, mostly taken up by boxes of empty liquor bottles that she hasn’t quite figured out what to do with yet- she’s considered giving them to Ripper, but frankly the woman scares her. Unrolling the bundle of clothes, she recognizes the shirt and pants as being part of what Peeta calls Katniss’ ‘hunting wardrobe’. The pants are slightly too short, but Effie reasons that her boots will more than likely cover the distance. The shirt is another matter entirely. It’s much tighter than she expects. It’s too tight. She has it on for barely a moment before she pulls it back over her head, hands trembling. She rolls it back into a bundle and pulls her sweater back over her head.

“Katniss,” she calls the girl from the doorway and Katniss turns slowly to look at her, her eyes blank. “This doesn’t quite fit, I’m just going to run upstairs and find something else.” She remembers putting something on the floor in front of Haymitch’s door that might work. Katniss acknowledges her with a slight nod, so she retrieves the shirt. It’s much less restrictive and she sighs in relief as she does the buttons up slowly.  “I’m almost ready,” she announces as she steps out of the house with her boots cradled in her arms, “I just need to put these on.”

She fumbles with the laces for a bit, her fingers not quite cooperating as they had when she’d buttoned the shirt, until Katniss takes pity on her and finishes the job. “Thanks,” she murmurs as Katniss offers her a hand and pulls her up. Katniss smiles slightly, wearily and they set off at a pace that Effie can comfortably keep up with but isn’t quite walking either.

They reach the edge of the Meadow before long, and stop right on the border. Katniss’ eyes close for a moment as she takes the first step, her breath coming out in a long exhale that is audible over the birdsong coming from the woods. Effie follows with only a moment of hesitation. She’s never been comfortable here in the Meadow. It feels too much like defiling sacred ground- the grave of people whose children she sent to their deaths. But Katniss leads and she follows, only a step behind as they make their way to the fence. Sometime in the months since people had started returning to District 12, the old fence had been adapted to make it easier for people to get to the woods, a rough gate put in place. Katniss holds it open for Effie, and she steps through with trepidation. She’s not been into the woods with Katniss yet, the whole idea is so foreign to her that she falters until Katniss takes her arm and starts leading her through a path that only she can pick out, at a pace that Effie can barely keep up with.

They stop not too far into the woods, Katniss offering Effie a canteen that she had been carrying in the small bag she’d had slung over her shoulder. Effie takes it from her and  watches Katniss thoughtfully as she drinks. “Do you want to talk about it?” she ventures, handing the canteen back.

Katniss shakes her head, putting the canteen to her own lips. “Not yet,” she mumbles, tossing it back in her bag and wiping her mouth on her sleeve. Effie just nods, and they continue walking. The pace is slower now, Katniss no longer seeming like she’s trying to escape. Effie loops her arm through Katniss’ at one point, when the ground is too uneven and the path seems like it’s wide enough to accommodate two people. Katniss doesn’t shrug her off when the ground evens out, so Effie keeps her arm there, holding on to the younger woman carefully.

They must have come far enough into the woods for Katniss to be comfortable to begin the conversation she had been mouthing to herself while they’d been walking, lips moving in fits and starts. She guides Effie to a flat rock in the middle of a clearing, then flops down unceremoniously on the ground next to it. Effie waits patiently , her hands clasped loosely between her knees, scrutinising Katniss’ face carefully. She’s chewing her fingernails again, so Effie reaches out and tugs her hands away from her mouth gently, holding them in hers. Katniss smiles at her, embarrassed and then begins to speak.

“Peeta asked me to marry him again. ‘ _For real this time,_ ’ he said. ” Katniss looks stricken as she looks up, and  Effie has to squash her first instinct to throw her arms around Katniss and congratulate her.

“How do you feel about it?” She asks instead, squeezing her hands gently. Katniss looks at her, and then away, and Effie knows that she’s thinking of Games and lies, torture and hijacking.

“I don’t know,” she whispers brokenly. “I know he loves me. And I love him. It’s just,” she looks around, eyes flickering from tree to sky to rock. “I’m afraid to be happy, I think.”

Now Effie does move, sliding down to sit next to Katniss in the dirt and leaves. Their shoulders press together and Katniss sags into her slightly, her head bowing to rest on Effie’s shoulder, Effie’s cheek pressing into her dark hair.

“I wish- ” Effie falters, clearing her throat, “I wish there was something I could say. Or do. You deserve so much to not be afraid. To be happy.”

“Do you think we ever will?” Katniss whispers, her voice cracking.

“I don’t know, Katniss. But I think… I _hope_ , that maybe it will get less and less. It may not ever go away, but it doesn’t have to be everything.” She nudges Katniss gently, trying for levity, “so, what did you say?”

“I didn’t,” Katniss mumbles, hands migrating to her mouth again. “I just… walked away. It all got too _loud_ so I grabbed my stuff, came and got you.”

“Oh dear,” Effie sighs quietly as Katniss winces.

“I know.” Katniss is silent for a moment, then her voice is as quiet as Effie has ever heard it. “Do you think he’ll hate me after this? I know it wasn’t easy for him.”

“It’s not in his nature,” Effie dares to wrap an arm around her, “they had to try so hard to make him… well, what they did to him. It took a long time. He’ll never hate you, Katniss.” 

“Okay,” she mumbles.

 

They sit for a while longer in a comfortable silence, before Katniss climbs to her feet slowly and reaches to pull Effie up.

“Thank you, Effie. For listening, I mean.”

“Any time,” she says, offering her a smile. “I have to say, I’m… surprised that you came to me. Oh, I’m so glad you did, don’t get me wrong, but,” she raises her shoulders in a sort of shrug, “you usually talk to Haymitch.”

Katniss nods slowly, pushing her hands into her jacket pockets. “I know, but this seems too… well. You know how Haymitch is with emotions.” They both laugh slightly, and Effie reaches out to tuck her arm through Katniss’ again.

“We had best get back,” she says, tugging on Katniss' arm to get her moving. "Peeta will probably be getting worried about you."

"Why?" Katniss asks, brows drawn together in a frown, "he should know I’m in the woods."

Effie chuckles and squeezes her arm gently, "Darling, you didn't bring your bow or your game bag with you today. He might guess, but when he realizes you don't have them he will most likely start to worry.”

“Oh,” Katniss breathes, “oh no.”  

“It’s okay, he’ll probably go to Haymitch first. It’s far too early in the day for him to be entirely drunk. I’m sure he’ll be able to put two and two together,” she leans in conspiratorially, “Or, distract Peeta long enough for us to get back.” Katniss manages a half-hearted snigger and they move through the woods at a pace that Effie isn’t quite sure she’ll be able to keep up with for long.

 

When they reach the edge of the woods, right where the Meadow begins, Effie can feel the tension and barely contained energy radiating from Katniss’ stiff form. She lets go of her arm and pushes her gently. “Go on, I’ll just slow you down.”

Katniss looks at her for a moment before nodding, and giving her a one-armed squeeze. “Thanks, Effie. I- thanks!” Then she’s off and running, and Effie stands there with a silly smile on her face. A wedding. Katniss and Peeta’s wedding, no less. There’s no doubt in her mind that Katniss will say yes to Peeta, of course. If she believed in true love, she’d say that those two were the embodiment of it. But even now in a safe place, she can’t quite bring herself to believe in the fairytale concepts that she’d taken for granted for so long.

Effie considers staying on the edge of the Meadow a while longer- the sun is shining and the air, while not warm, is refreshing, but she hasn’t had a proper meal all day and midday is fast approaching, if it's not already long passed. So instead she sets off carefully over the grass, treading lightly and trying desperately not to think about hands reaching out of the ground and pulling her down to where she belongs. It feels like an eternity, crossing the grassy field alone and she hates that she's so relieved when she reaches the other side.

There are splashes of color in the bushes that line the path back to the Village, so she trails her fingers through the blooms and gently breaks them off, creating a small bouquet to distract herself from the dark thoughts that are creeping- this is supposed to be, no, it's _going to be_ a happy day. She reaches Haymitch's house just as Katniss and Peeta are leaving, her cheeks flushed and him smiling at her like she's the only thing on the planet. When she gets close enough, Katniss surprises her by throwing her arms around her neck.

“I did it,” she whispers into Effie's shoulder, “I said yes.” Effie just squeezes her tightly, a genuine smile breaking through.

“Congratulations,” she says over Katniss' back to Peeta, “I am so so happy for you.” She hands the bouquet to Katniss, who takes it shyly but with a tiny, pleased smile.

Peeta takes his turn hugging her next, and as he pulls back she cups his face in her hands. She wants to say something, but the words won't come out, instead she strokes his cheeks with the pads of her thumbs and hopes he understands what she wants to say. He covers his hands with hers and smiles, and she knows that he does.

“Geez, Peeta, I thought I was the one who was marrying you,” Katniss says, and her voice strains slightly when she says ' _marrying'_ , but her eyes are hopeful and full of mirth and Peeta chuckles.

“I'm just keeping my options open,” he shoots back, reaching over to take one of her hands as well, and the three of them stand there for a moment, hands linked between them.

Effie reluctantly lets go of their hands as she steps towards the house, “I'm guessing you've spoken to Haymitch?”

Katniss snorts, “yeah. He was happy for us, in his own way, I think.”

“He just mumbled something about 'damn kids', and shook his head a lot. I think he was smiling though,” Peeta offers. Effie sighs and shakes her head.

“That man, honestly. Well, thank you both very much for letting us be the first people you've told.”

“You're family,” Peeta shrugs and Effie feels a tug in her chest and wills herself not to cry.

“Besides,” Katniss adds, “I have no idea how to plan a _wedding_. I'm going to need your help.” She snuggles into Peeta's side, and Effie wishes desperately that she had a camera on hand to capture the moment, but instead she tries to commit every detail to memory as they stare at each other adoringly. They offer her their goodbyes and head back to their house, and so Effie climbs the front steps slowly, hand faltering for only a moment over the doorknob.

“I'm back,” she calls into the quiet house, and there's something from Haymitch in the living room that might be 'it's about bloody time,' before she hears him lurch to his feet and stagger into the hall.

“So, didja hear the news?” he asks, the expected bottle of white liquor nowhere to be seen. She can't smell it in the house either, and narrows her eyes suspiciously.

“Katniss told me earlier, when we were in the woods.” Effie tilts her head slowly, “you're not drunk.” He looks at her a moment, clearly surprised she can read him so easily before he shrugs slightly.

“Plenty of hours left in the day, Princess.”

She scowls at the mockery, but removes her boots carefully, aware of his continued presence slouched against the door frame. When she straightens up, he's still standing there staring at her and she just sighs in response.

“I'm famished. Would you care to join me for some lunch?” she asks, because it is only polite after all. His muttered response of, 'not if _you're_ cookin', Trinket' earns him a smack to the chest as she walks past, but the quiet rumble of his laughter means that she'll pull out a second plate anyway, even if she won't fill it for him.

 


	4. we are stranger than earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I'd ever finish this, but past me rules and all I had to do was tidy up this chapter! I did intend this to be a much larger piece but I fell out of fandom so this will have to suffice :)

Night terrors chase Effie away from bed sometimes. They’re faint traces of people from the past that won’t go away. The only refuge is in the downstairs kitchen; a soothing cup of tea and solitude. Sometimes she won’t even make it back to bed by the time dawn is streaking across the sky. On the rare occasions that Haymitch is up with the sun, he must assume that this is part of her morning ritual, rather than the end of her nightly one.

It’s the end of a particularly draining week-- young Prim had been dancing through Effie’s dreams in Katniss’ arms, smiling and laughing with their mother, shyly talking to the camera crew Effie had brought from the Capitol, and the culmination of tonight's nightly ritual had been when deep sleep had mercifully overtaken her racing mind, and knocked her out at the kitchen table.

The reprieve doesn’t last long. Effie is awoken by a hand on her shoulder and instinct takes over, her body curling in on itself and going still. After all the time spent away from the dank cell that was home, a single touch catapults her back as though no time has passed. Effie holds her breath and doesn't move, eyes squeezed tightly, before she realizes that there's no cold concrete under her knees, just the table under her cheek.

Eyes sliding open slowly take the room in. This is the dining room. This is Haymitches house. This is District Twelve. This is safe. There's an awkward shuffling of feet on the floor and a puff of breath on the back of her head, so she slips her knees out from under the table, turning in the chair to look at Haymitch. 

He won't meet her eyes. Instead, they're focused on a point on the table beyond her shoulders. Effie realizes belatedly that the blanket she'd wrapped herself in is pooled around her hips uselessly, and the nightshirt she's only just starting to feel warm enough to wear exposes a swath of her skin from shoulder to shoulder. 

He’s seen her back before, of course. A long time ago in Thirteen. Effie doesn’t really remember much- it’s a haze of pain and medical treatments, Haymitch and Plutarch with raised voices. She thinks maybe he was kind to her then, instead of barely civil like he is now. 

He sighs, running his hands through his hair and Effie wants to flee back to her room because she knows what’s coming next, and she’s not sure she wants to endure it, but her traitorous body stays firmly sat in the chair and when she notices the slump in Haymitches shoulders, she thinks that maybe it’s long overdue. So she sits, and waits.

Haymitch pulls out the chair next to her and sits heavily, his knee bumping against hers. She can feel the warmth against her bare knee. He opens his mouth to say something, appears to think better of it, and closes it again, setting his chin on his hands and staring across the room. Effie is toying with the teabag in her wasted cup of tea when he finally starts speaking.

“I regret what happened to you,” he says finally, and Effie has to smile. It’s not an apology, but from Haymitch Abernathy it’s the closest thing she’s going to get. And she finds that she can’t even be upset about it. She feels like she knows now what his words cost him, so she just smiles and pushes back against his knee with hers. 

“I do too,” she says softly. His grey eyes meet hers, and she just gives him a sad half-smile and a lift of her shoulders.

Haymitch looks at her for a moment like she’s the strangest thing on the planet, and it’s so like the looks he used to give her that she starts laughing. He raises an eyebrow in confusion and she waves it off. “I’m sorry, you just… looked at me like I was some sort of alien being. It was the same look you’d give me every year, when you saw me for the first time.”

“You looked like an alien,” he mutters, half smile tugging at his lips. “All crazy hair and makeup. I’m surprised the kids didn’t run away screaming when they got their first look at you.” There were one or two that came close, she remembers, but most of them were so terrified that she doubts they noticed much of what she wore. 

“What a pair we made,” Effie sighs. She can see the humor in it now, the Capitol fashionista and the District Twelve drunkard. She shivers in the cold for a moment, then pulls the blanket up holding it tight under her chin. “You’re up early this morning.”

“Need to feed the geese,” he shrugs, “they’re getting loud.” Her gaze lingers on the dark bags under his eyes for a moment, but she says nothing. “Why don’t you get dressed and help me,” it comes out slowly, like he’s not quite sure about what he’s saying, but his expression doesn’t change at all so Effie figures that he won’t mind her saying yes this time. 

“Okay. I’ll just pop upstairs and change,” she says, standing and reaching out for the mug. Haymitch stops her with a wave of his hand.

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you,” Effie says as she leaves the room, blanket still wrapped tight. As she climbs the stairs she hears him in the kitchen and her brow furrows as she ponders his attitude this morning. When she reaches her room, the door is open wide, which is not unusual- though she has a foggy memory of closing it behind her when she fled earlier in the night, but the covers on her bed are thrown back and she definitely didn’t leave them like that. When she realizes what must have happened, her hand flutters to her mouth for a moment and she casts a glance back out the door, in his direction.

Effie pushes the door almost closed so the movements downstairs is still audible in the still morning air, and dresses quickly. Rubbing some of Katniss’ salve into her knees she thinks about the fact that she hasn’t had to use it for a while, but sleeping in a chair never did wonders for anyones body, and hers is more worn than it used to be. By the time she makes it back downstairs Haymitch is in the dining room again, several slices of toast on a plate in the middle of the table and two mugs of black coffee.

“Here,” he says around a mouthful of toast, pushing the plate towards her. She frowns, lips pursed and he smirks around his food. She knows he thinks her loyalty to the idea of manners, manners, manners is ridiculous, but in all honesty she hopes that he is also aware that his are atrocious. 

“Thank you Haymitch,” she responds primly, picking up one of the mugs and a slice of toast. Effie gestures with the toast towards the door and arches her eyebrow, “didn’t you say something about the geese needing to be fed?”

An amused chuckle is all that is left in the room behind him as he exits on her command, picking up the feed pail from by the door and heading towards the pen the geese are kept in. 

Effie pauses in the doorway as she goes to follow him, taking a moment to breathe in deeply. The smell of primroses is faint on the air, and she doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or cry. Thinking back to the conversation with Katniss in the woods, Effie recalls her own words and nods to herself. It doesn’t have to be okay now, but it will be, one day.

They’ve come too far for it not to be.

**Author's Note:**

> For Billie, who proved herself to be infallible right up until the naming of this fic. And, Isy, who will diligently beta anything I send her, even though it's not her fandom. You ladies give me confidence to post this stuff! I appreciate you so much.


End file.
